


No One Can Tell Us We’re Wrong

by ceealaina



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Civil War Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Friendly, steve rogers friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceealaina/pseuds/ceealaina
Summary: “It started with a text. It started with a text, and one glass of scotch too many.He flipped the phone open, glared at the screen. His vision was blurring, entirely from the lack of sleep and the alcohol, and nothing at all to do with the way his eyes were burning, throat thickening at the thought of Steve, at the thought of everything that had happened. He opened the contacts, chewed his lip hard at the one name there, mocking him. Before he could stop himself, almost without thinking it, he typed in a text, thumb pounding against the keys.”***Set post-Civil War. What if Tony and Steve hadn’t exactly been incommunicado all that time between Civil War and Infinity War? After a bad day, and one too many drinks, Tony ends up texting Steve. And after that first text, it’s too easy to just... keep texting. In which the boys finally learn to be adults and talk, and realize just how much they love each other along the way. Something of a CW fixit. (Fair warning: I love both these idiots with all my heart. If you’re looking for Steve bashing or, for that matter, Tony bashing, this is not the story for you).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After the IW trailers came out, I saw a post about how supposedly there was an unread text on Tony’s flip phone. I planned to write a crack fic about the two of them phone sexxxing it up while still fighting over everything else. This… isn’t that story (but I think it’s much, much better). 
> 
> I also somehow failed to include a single phone sex scene. I guess there’s always outtakes!

It started with a text. It started with a text, and one glass of scotch too many.

Tony was tired and frustrated, pissed off after yet another set back with Rhodey’s leg braces. He’d flopped back on the couch in his lab, drink in hand, only to wince as he landed on something hard. He wiggled around a minute, fishing the whatever out from underneath him, and when he came up with the phone Steve had sent him, he was suddenly so angry it was all he could do not to scream.

Objectively he knew it wasn’t all Steve’s fault. A share of the blame went to him too. But dammit, he’d shouldered that blame, was doing everything he could to fix things, to be better. And if fucking Steve Rogers, and his fucking _flip phone_ had just listened for once in his goddamned life, then maybe that fight would never have happened. If he had just tried to work with him, instead of going off all half-cocked to do whatever his stubborn ass had decided was best, Tony wouldn’t be sitting here trying to build his best friend leg braces so he could walk again.

If he had cared for Tony even a fraction of the way he had cared for Barnes, maybe they would still be a team. Still be a family.

Tony’s fist clenched around the phone in his hand. He wanted to throw it across the room, wanted to smash it to bits with a sledgehammer. Wanted to suit up and pulverize it with a repulsor blast. But somehow, as furious as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to make the move.

He flipped the phone open, glared at the screen. His vision was blurring, entirely from the lack of sleep and the alcohol, and nothing at all to do with the way his eyes were burning, throat thickening at the thought of Steve, at the thought of everything that had happened. He opened the contacts, chewed his lip hard at the one name there, mocking him. Before he could stop himself, almost without thinking it, he typed in a text, thumb pounding against the keys. 

_Fuck you, Steve._

He fell asleep on the couch, clutching the phone against his chest.

***

Tony woke up the next morning with a headache, a backache, and a sick, anxious feeling in the pit of the stomach - so a typical morning, for him. He was still on the couch, wearing his filthy workshop clothes from the night before, and sprawled out on his stomach. There was something sharp digging into his stomach, and he grumbled as he pulled himself into a sitting position, digging out Steve’s flip phone. He glowered at it, but in all honesty had forgotten all about the text the night before. He tossed it on his desk, plugging it in to charge, before wandering off in search of coffee.

He would never in a million years expect Steve to text, even if he had remembered sending the text the night before, so it was pure luck that he happened to hear the notification six hours later, as he was going over the latest addendum to the accords. It took a minute to place the sound, tracking down the phone to where it was hiding under a pile of blueprints. Uncovering it, he stared for a long minute, unblinking, before making a split second decision and grabbing it off the table. Feeling bizarrely more nervous than he’d been in a very long time, he swallowed hard and flipped the phone open. A waiting text notification blinked back at him, and he clicked on it before he could talk himself out of it.

Steve’s message was short, only four words long: _I probably deserve that._

Tony stared down at the phone. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly, but he didn’t think it was that. As clear as anything, he could suddenly picture Steve, frowning down at his stupid flip phone, a match to the one he’d given Tony, worrying at his lower lip as he tried to pick over exactly the right words to text back. His heart wrenched unexpectedly, imagining Steve’s lost expression, and suddenly furious, he threw the phone across the room.

A split second later he realized what he’d done, and a wave of panic went through him. “Shit,” he hissed, inexplicably terrified that he’d just severed his last connection to the other man. “Shit, shit, shit.” He hurried across the room, but he had to give Steve some credit - he’d forgotten just how durable flip phones could be. There was only a small scratch on the back of the case, and when he opened the display it was as clear as ever. With a sigh, he tipped back on his ass to lean against the metal of his work desk, scrubbing a hand over his face as he stared down at the message again. 

He should ignore it, he knew he should ignore it, write off the past twelve hours, go back to the months of radio silence. He was too wound up right now, too volatile. Still too angry, and frustrated, and underneath all that, still so, so hurt. Texting Steve right now would be a terrible, awful idea. He should ignore it.

He didn’t ignore it.

 _Yeah, ya think?_ He texted back, before he could think the better of it.

The return response was a lot faster in coming this time. _Tony. I fucked up, I know I fucked up. I should have told you the second I found out, and I wish every day that I had. I meant what I said, Tony. If you need me - whatever it is - I’m here._

Tony stared at the message until his vision started to swim. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, staring around the room in disbelief.

 _Fuck you, Steve_ he fired off before tossing the phone on the table and turning back to his project of the hour.

The phone didn’t chime again.

***

He lasted all of two days before he was texting Steve again. He’d had a frustrating day of Ross breathing down his neck, he hadn’t slept well the night before, and Rhodey was off campus and unable to provide him with his usual distraction. He wasn’t sure what made him do it - maybe he’d been dreaming about when they’d all been actual teammates the night before - but when he got stuck with a piece of machinery in his workshop, he hollered out for Steve, like he’d done a thousand times before, when they lived in New York and Steve used to spend hours keeping him company in the lab, sketching while Tony worked on one of his projects. His voice rang out, echoing in the empty space, before he realized what he’d said. He dropped the screwdriver in his hand with a loud clang against the table, nausea burning a hole in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as his eyes were drawn unbidden back to the phone, peeking out from under some paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms are his glared at it. His fingers twitched against his arm as he fought the urge to grab it. He’d never been one for self-restraint though, and he only held out another minute before reaching out and snagging it, drawing it over to him. He shifted it back and forth in his hands before snapping it open.

_You know what the worst part is, Rogers? I still don’t understand WHY._

The response from Steve was so long in coming that Tony half expected one to not come at all.

_I’ve deleted this text about a thousand times, he admitted. Because everything I type is an excuse, and you deserve better than that. I should have told you, that was the very least that I owed you. But the truth is I was scared. I’m a coward, Tony. I was afraid that you wouldn’t understand - because how could you? And I was afraid_

The message cut off suddenly, but a second one popped up almost before he’d finished reading it.

_I was afraid you’d blame me. See me the way I keep seeing myself. I wanted to tell you, Tony. I was going to tell you, I swear I was. But I was scared I’d lose you and so I kept waiting. I kept thinking I’d find some way to explain it, that I’d be able to show you that it wasn’t his fault. So I kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And then it was too late._

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face. A couple of weeks ago, maybe, he would have been angry at Steve all over again, would have seen it as a guilt trip. But he felt something loosen in his chest at Steve’s admission, a realization of what an impossibly fucked up situation it had been for everyone. It wasn’t like everything was all miraculously forgiven, but for the first time he was able to think about Steve and Bucky, and the whole mess without going white hot with anger. He thought of Steve and all he felt was a faint pang for the way things had been before. He let out a slow breath and closed the phone without replying.

But the thing was, he couldn’t leave it alone. It was like a cut on his lip he couldn’t stop worrying, a bruise he couldn’t stop poking. He was hyper aware of the phone, couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering over to it every few seconds, startled at every sudden noise thinking it was the still-unfamiliar text tone. Steve hadn’t messaged him again, and he knew he wouldn’t without hearing from Tony first, trying to fix things in whatever way he could. Tony sighed, tossing down his wrench. He was in the workshop, supposedly working, but for the better part of the past hour he’d been doing absolutely nothing, too busy thinking about Steve, about his last text, about where he was now, what he was doing, what he looked like. Wondering if the other traitors were with him, or if they’d temporarily split up to make themselves harder to track.

He had a sudden vision of Steve, alone in some dark, shitty safe house, beating himself up over what had happened to Barnes. “Dammit, Rogers,” Tony muttered. Then, because he was alone in the workshop with no one to make fun of him, he leaned back in his chair and pulled his hood over his eyes, whining loudly into the empty room before picking up the phone.

 _You know it wasn’t your fault, right? I mean, not the whole splitting the team thing, we both could have handled that better, and I’m still not ready to forgive us for that. But what happened to Barnes, falling, and then Hydra. That’s not on you, Steve_.

His response was a lot quicker in coming this time. _Not quite ready to forgive me, huh? Does that mean that eventually you will?_

Tony rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight back the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. _Keep pushing me, Rogers. See if I don’t toss this shitty piece of 90s technology straight into the garbage disposal._

Steve’s response was quick again, and despite himself Tony couldn’t help wondering where he was, what he was doing. _I’m surprised it lasted this long, honestly. Figured you’d toss it in the garbage straight away._

Tony knew he was joking about the technology, but couldn’t help the twinge in his stomach when he remembered just how close he had been to doing exactly that, simply because it had come from Steve. He chewed at his lip, not quite ready to admit just how much he missed the other man.

_Don’t think I don’t notice you changing the subject, Rogers. What happened with Barnes wasn’t your fault._

This time it was Steve who didn’t answer.

***

It was the better part of a week before he heard from Steve, and he absolutely didn’t drop everything at the ping of the phone.

 _I know that_ , his text read, and Tony couldn’t help wondering what the hell he’d been up to that it had taken him this long to continue the conversation. _Some part of me knows that. I just can’t seem to turn off the part of me that thinks if I’d just done something more I could have kept it all from happening. It’s irrational, and stupid, but… You know me. I’ve never been one for thinking things through._

Tony couldn’t help his wry smile at that. He was still pissed over the way everything had happened, but now, with time and space to process everything, he could see how Steve could have maybe lost sight of everything else. God knew if it were Rhodey in trouble, Tony would have burned the world to help him. 

 _You always were a stubborn ass_ he replied, fighting the urge to picture the crooked smile that Steve would always get when Tony teased. He sighed, scrubbing his hand over the top of his head. _So. How is Barnes anyway?_ He couldn’t quite manage to say what he really meant, his mother’s dying words still echoing in his ears, but he thought that maybe Steve would hear the apology in them anyway.

It was nearly an hour, long enough that Tony wondered if he even would, before Steve replied. _He’s good. He’s. Well. You can probably guess where he is but he’s back in cryo, least until we can find a way to get Hydra out of his head for good._

Tony stared at his phone, reread the message twice because that was unexpected. He’d assumed the Steve and Barnes would be broing it up, running around the world and reliving their Nazi hunting days. This was... not that. He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he texted his reply. 

_Don’t tell me you’re actually being proactive and thinking things through. Who are you and what have you done with Steve Rogers?_

_Ha. Ha. You’re just all kinds of hilarious. Tony. And, it was actually Bucky’s idea, so there you go._

When it took Tony a minute to answer, Steve sent another text.

_He wants to be himself again, Tony. Doesn’t want to hurt anyone else, no matter what he has to do to get there._

Tony shook his head again, lopsided smile on his face even though Steve couldn’t see him. 

 _That’s really great, Steve. I hope you get him back_ soon.

***

They carried on like this for the next few weeks, texting off and on, sometimes every hour and then sometimes nothing for days at a time. It was mostly careful teasing (although there were a few more sincere apologies) tiptoeing around the friendship they’d once had. Still, the tension between them was slowly thawing, the bitter taste that the thought of Steve had left in Tony’s mouth fading away.

Tony hadn’t actually noticed the shift, hadn’t realized that more and more thinking about Steve was a positive experience again until after a particularly shitty and frustrating meeting when his first instinct was to text Steve for a pick-me-up. He was most of the way to his car, phone in hand and text half composed when he realized what he was doing. He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, blinking down at the tiny letters on on the crappy phone before scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Dammit Rogers,” he muttered, but found he couldn’t work himself up to actually being that upset about it. Deleting the text he’d already started, he continued walking. _God, I hate you sometimes, you stubborn bastard. Just had to get your way, didn’t you?_

He was in the car on his way back to the compound when Steve’s reply came in. _What did I do now?_

Tony couldn’t help grinning a little as he read it; he could practically hear Steve’s beleaguered tone. _Had to send me the phone, had to keep texting me back… Had to worm your way back in. You always get your way, and I can’t even be mad about it!  
_

_Seriously Tony? You’ve been mad for eighteen months._

Tony actually giggled at that, glad that he was alone in the car so nobody could hear him and make fun of him for it. _...Anymore,_ he amended.

_I’m glad, Tony. I m_

Steve’s text cut off mid word, like he’d hit send instead of delete, and Tony blinked at the phone. 

 _I’m glad_ , Steve said again. _And I’m sorry._

Tony rolled his eyes. _Come on, Steve. Don’t ruin the moment. You don’t have to keep apologizing - I’ve already forgiven you, remember?_

_Doesn’t mean I’m not still sorry. I shouldn’t have had to get your forgiveness in the first place._

_Well…_ Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair, hesitating, but since they were going all in here… _You maybe weren’t entirely wrong, at least not about the Accords. I still think we need some kind of oversight, but Ross has been a bigger pain in my ass than I even imagined._

_I mean, I hate to say I told you so, but…_

_Shut up, Steve,_ Tony texted, rolling his eyes and grinning at the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve continue texting each other, and feelings are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All place names are totally stolen from the Marvel comics, but not meant to be the actual places in the Marvel comics.

_It is so fucking hot here that I want to vomit_.

Tony bit his lip against the giggle that threatened to escape at Steve’s most recent text, a million potential responses popping into his head at once. He was deterred from sending them by a sharp kick to his shin from Pepper. He shot her a guilty glance, only getting an unimpressed stare in response, and he cleared his throat, stowing his phone under his thigh as he did his best to refocus on the current board meeting he was sitting in on. It was hard to keep listening, though, when the little phone kept buzzing against his thigh, a subsequent four texts coming in from Steve. He tried to be as subtle as possible - he hadn’t exactly told Pepper that Steve was no longer his public number enemy number one, and considering she was still planning to eviscerate Steve if she ever saw him again, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to that conversation - but judging by the way his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping impatiently against the side of his chair while Pep glared daggers into the side of his head, he wasn’t exactly successful.

The second the meeting was out, he was rushing off to read his new texts in private, throwing bullshit excuses about important Iron Man business at Pepper before she could start questioning him. If Tony stopped to think about it, he probably should have been questioning why he hadn’t told Pepper or Rhodey about the tentative truce between them, why he wanted to savour every text from Steve, and keep them all to himself. But fortunately Tony was a master of self deception, and was able to safely bury those feelings deep down inside.

_And there’s sand. Everywhere. So much sand._

_Go to the desert, they said, it’ll be fun, they said. I am not having fun._

_Seriously, I would take another iceberg over this. I’m pretty sure there’s sand in my ass, Tony. In. My. Ass._

_But also, what is it with bad guys and dark desolate hideaways. Just once I’d like to find a Hydra cell located in a pleasant, temperate climate. Is that really so much to ask?_

Tony couldn’t help grinning to himself as he read through the messages, even as he shook his head before typing back. _Jesus Steve, you’re really shitty at this ‘on the run thing,’ you know that? Stop giving me so much information. I’m a genius, remember? If I don’t know where you are, then I’m not actually lying to Ross when I tell him I have no new information about your whereabouts._

Steve’s reply was swift: _Eat me._

Tony couldn’t help laughing again, smirking at his phone as he texted back. _Not with the amount of sand you’ve apparently got going on in there._

He waited a beat, to give Steve time to properly understand and then be disgruntled by the innuendo and then:

_What are you doing texting me on an op anyway? Shouldn’t you be, you know, catching Hydra agents or whatever?_

_Apparently I’m “as subtle as a freight train, Steve, Jesus” so I’m stuck waiting until Sam and Nat get back from running recon._

Tony groaned, letting his head thump down against the table. _Steve! What did we just say about plausible deniability?_

***

Tony sighed as he slipped into an empty room, closing the door behind him and leaving him in darkness, except for the light of the phone. _Help_ , he texted. _Captain America alert. Need immediate extraction. Save me, Cap, you’re my only hope._

He hummed to himself, keeping an ear out for anyone outside the door as he waited for Steve’s reply. It was only a minute before his phone buzzed with a response, and Tony grinned as he leaned against the wall to read it.

_I’m like 99% sure you’re kidding. But just in case, I’m on standby. I can be in New York in an hour. You know. If you need me to be._

Tony felt a shiver go through him at the thought of Steve being so close, actual butterflies fluttering around his stomach, because apparently he was regressing to his prepubescent days. All he’d have to do was say the word, and Steve could be here, actually physically in front of him. All muscles and height, probably looking a little rugged from being on the run for so long…

Tony blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts, and eyeing his glass of whiskey. Sleep. He needed more sleep, that was all.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he typed out his reply to Steve. _Stand down, solider. Tempting as that sounds, there’s no actual emergency. Just a charity ball and a former deubtante that I can’t seem to escape._

_I do not miss those._

Tony could practically hear Steve’s smug tone, and he rolled his eyes, even if Steve couldn’t see him.He tapped his fingers against the phone, puzzling out an appropriately smug response when it buzzed suddenly in his grip, a second text coming through.

_Look on the bright side! A beautiful woman hanging on your every word? I thought that was your element._

He knew Steve was just teasing him, trying to cheer him up and get him to smile, but Tony suddenly wasn’t in the mood for the flirting/joking/dancing around everything real that they seemed to be doing lately. He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Used to be, he admitted. _I don’t know, Steve. Since Pepper and I split, it hasn’t really been the same. Sex is great, but I just… I miss having a relationship? I miss the companionship. I miss having people around who know me, and the movie nights, and the team dinners. I miss the way things were. I miss._

Tony blinked down at the cursor, then figured ‘fuck it,’ swallowed the whiskey in one go, finished his message and hit send.

_I miss you._

He didn’t feel as nervous at the admission as he would have expected, just leaned back and waited for Steve’s response.

_I miss you too, Tony. I really, really miss you._

Tony couldn’t help smiling down at his phone, and even though he had forgiven Steve awhile back now, something in his chest lightened at Steve’s words.

 _Jesus,_ he texted, instead of saying that. _This got a lot heavier than I intended._

_You sure you don’t want me to come? I wasn’t kidding when I said I would if you needed me._

And Tony was tempted. He was really, really tempted. It would be so good to see Steve again, to be able to see his bright grin again. To hug him, and feel those thick arms wrapped around himself in return. Long fingers sliding under his jacket to rub up and down his back…

Tony squirmed a little at the thought, wondering what in the hell had gotten into him tonight.

_Appreciate the offer, Cap, really I do, but it wouldn’t do to break your cover just because I’m turning into a lonely old man._

_Hey, ease up on that lonely old man, huh? I kinda like him._

And it was silly, and juvenile, but that one little text had Tony smiling all through the rest of the party, and heading back to the Tower alone.

***

He was already half undressed when he wandered into his bedroom, jacket abandoned on the sofa, shirt untucked and unbuttoned at the sleeves and collar, tie loose around his neck, belt left behind on the kitchen counter. He headed through the door, scrubbing a hand through his hair and then stopped, staring at the figure sitting on his bed. He blinked, breath catching in his throat.

“ _Steve?_ ”

Steve looked up, beaming at the sight of him. “Hey Tony.”

And god, it had been so long since Tony had heard his voice. He shivered a little at the sound of it, licking his lips as he stared at Steve incredulously. “I don’t... What are you doing here?”

Steve shrugged, leaning back against the pillows. His white t-shirt was super tight (not that Tony would have expected anything less) and Tony couldn’t quite keep his eyes from dropping down. “You sounded sad on the phone, I thought you could use some company.” He’d been sitting cross-legged on the mattress, but he shifted gracefully to his feet, moving over toward Tony, grinning wryly. “And, you know. I missed you.”

Tony’s head tipped back as Steve moved toward him, getting right up in his space. His mouth went a little dry, still trying to process how and why, and before he could say another word, Steve’s hand was cupping his chin, the other hand curling around the back of his neck as he leaned in and kissed him.

Tony couldn’t help the moan as Steve’s tongue flicked against the seam of his lips, his hands scrambling for a grip on the t-shirt over Steve’s chest. Steve bit at his lower lip, and on Tony’s gasp, deepened the kiss. He grinned against Tony’s mouth, hands sliding down his back to ruck up his dress shirt before he dug his fingers in sharply to the small of his back.

“Fuck,” Tony groaned, hips jerking against him. Steve huffed out a soft laugh at the motion, the sound sending sparks of heat licking up Tony’s spine. He shivered, pulling back to stare up at him. “Steve, what?”

Steve just smiled down at him, looking happier than Tony could remember seeing him in a very long time. His thumb shifted to rub gently over Tony’s jaw, catching on the soft hairs of his beard. “You want this too, right Tony? God, tell me it’s not just me.”

“No,” Tony said quickly, shaking his head frantically. “No, not just you. Fuck me, not just you.”

Steve smirked a little, that goofy look on his face that he got when he was going to be a shit. “I mean, that is kind of what I was hoping for.”

Tony burst out laughing, light and feeling so genuinely happy. Steve was beaming down at him as Tony’s forehead rested against his collarbone, body shaking with laughter, and the next thing he knew they were in the bed together, Steve’s hands seeming to touch him everywhere as they made out lazily. His hands were clutching at Steve’s hips, rubbing over the waistband of his boxers, holding on and trying to keep his bearings as Steve kissed down his throat, sucking a bruise into his neck.

“Fuck Tony,” Steve groaned, his voice low and rough and sounding like he’d already been sucking cock for hours. “Wanted this for so long.”

Tony was abruptly, achingly hard, grinding up against Steve’s hip. “Me... Me too,” he managed to choke out, head rolling back against the pillows when Steve licked over his nipple. He’d managed to get Steve out of his t-shirt at some point, and his fingers dragged over the thick muscles. He wanted to reciprocate in kind, to make Steve feel every bit as good as he did, but Tony was completely and utterly overwhelmed, could only manage to hold on and moan and try to remember how to breathe. “Steve,” he whined when a big hand cupped him through his boxers. He couldn’t help grinding up into the touch. “Steve, please.”

Steve huffed out another laugh, soft and pleased, and the sound of it felt every bit as good as his touch. “Whatever you want, Tony,” he hummed between kisses. “What do you want? Want me to suck you off, sweetheart? Want me to fuck you?” Steve moaned softly at his own words, grinding down against Tony. “God Tony, sweetheart, please say I can fuck you. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’ll make it so good for you, sweetheart, I promise.”

Tony woke with a gasp, a moan on his lips that he quickly swallowed back. He was still in the throes of his dream, could feel Steve’s hands on his body, and for one long minute, turned his head, fully expecting to find the other man beside him, head propped on the pillow as he smirked at Tony. He wasn’t there, of course he wasn’t there, and Tony ignored the crushing sense of disappointment that went through him at the realization. He was hard and aching, and closed his eyes tightly shut, still tired enough to try and will himself back into the dream. He rolled over, trying to force himself back to sleep, and gasped again as he rocked down against the mattress, pleasure sparking through his body.

Sleep wasn’t coming, and Tony was just hazy enough that reaching down and curling a hand around his cock seemed like the best plan. He stroked himself slowly, close enough that anything else felt like too much, and imagined it was Steve, Steve teasing him, Steve telling him to hold himself back, Steve whispering in his ear, telling him how good it was going to feel when he finally fucked him.

Tony came into his hand with a long, low moan of Steve’s name, body trembling with just how damn good his orgasm had been. He lay there for a long minute, panting softly into the empty room, before what he’d done really hit him.

“Shit,” he muttered, getting up and padding into the bathroom to clean up. He waited for the clarity of being properly awake, the moment of ‘what the fuck was that’ so that he could write it off and shove it down and never think about Steve in that context again.

It didn’t come.

The problem was that, even properly awake now, he could see it all too clearly. Not just sex, but Steve, here, with him. Following him into the bathroom, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the top of his head, smiling at him in the mirror. Having his coffee ready when Tony stumbled out of bed. Eyes crinkling as he laughed with Tony over dinner. Tony wanted Steve here, wanted all of him in a way, for all his supposed futurism, he hadn’t actually expected.

He stared at himself in the mirror, bracing his arms on the counter and slumping a little. “Shit,” he said again.

Simultaneously exhausted and wired, he stumbled back into bed, collapsing on his belly. He shifted and squirmed into a comfortable position, wrapping his arms around a pillow, and his gaze fell on the flip phone, charging on his bedside table. He blinked at it, felt it mocking him and how much he wanted Steve’s presence. He glared back at it and rolled over with a huff. But he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shut his brain off, and he only lasted a minute before rolling back over, grabbing the phone and snatching it to him.

He blinked at the phone for a long minute, not quite sure what to say. Their texts tended to pick up as though they were already in the middle of a conversation, and he didn’t know what to say now, didn’t have any cute stories or whining complaints to entertain Steve with, and was too tired to come up with anything else. With a sigh, he settled for typing out three little characters.

_Hey_

He fell asleep before he got a reply.

He woke up cuddling the phone, which was more than a little embarrassing, with three texts waiting for him.

_Hey_

_What’s up?_

_Tony, are you okay?_

He couldn’t help smiling at the thought that even through text Steve would recognize that Tony wasn’t entirely himself. Then he shook his head, because this wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t a cheerleader with a crush on the quarterback.

_Hey, sorry. I couldn’t sleep. And then I guess I could sleep. But I’m fine. Just… Couldn’t sleep._

_You couldn’t sleep, so you texted me?_

Tony couldn’t help wincing. Put like that, it made him feel clingy and sad. _Sorry._ He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and sitting up in bed. He had things to do, a day to start, things to build, politicians to appease. He was sliding out of bed when the phone buzzed again.

_Don’t be sorry. You can text me any time. I’m… I want to be here for you. Whatever you need._

Tony blinked down at the phone, trying to keep from smiling like a complete idiot. _Oh. Well. Okay then. That’s… That’s good to know._ He slid out of bed, his day suddenly looking infinitely better, just because of a text from Steve.

He was so screwed.

***

_I thought you should know, Dum E is fired. It’s official. I’m sending him to the recycling heap._

_Aww, no! What did he do now?_

_He decided to play fetch. With the plans I spent all night working on. In some kind of fugue state, I might add, so I don’t entirely remember what they say, or what they’re for, and now they’re barely legible._

_Oh no. That’s terrible._

_You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Well suck it, Rogers. This is entirely your fault. “Oh, I’ll teach him to play fetch!” It’ll be fun, you said. It’ll help keep him out of your hair, you said. Now look where we are. He’s following me around like a sad little puppy. I think he misses you. I think he likes you more than me._

_I miss him too. I wish I was there to play fetch with him and keep him occupied for you. But I definitely don’t like him more than you, Tony._

***

Tony was going to kill Ross. And, even though he really had forgiven him, maybe a little bit Steve. While he still firmly believed in the need for some kind of oversight among them, the Accords had devolved into nothing but politics, to the point where they were being barred from stepping in - where their help was actually wanted - because some countries, who wouldn’t possibly have any kind of ulterior motive, were voting against it. The Avengers’ help was both needed and wanted, but legally their hands were tied. And after the whole Berlin Breakup, they didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to pushing for anything more.

 _Hey asshole. I’m mad at you_.

He wasn’t mad at Steve, not really, just the general situation. But somewhere over the past few months, texting Steve had become his go-to when frustrated. Steve, true to character, texted back within minutes.

_What did I do now?_

And really, Tony had just texted because texting Steve always made him feel better now. He hadn’t actually planned on telling him, because there was no point in hashing over the same old things when it was too late to go back now, and it wouldn’t change anything anyway. But somehow he ended up texting the whole ordeal to Steve anyway, complaining about Ross, and the Accords, and how the people in Symkaria needed their help and he was stuck just sitting on his ass.

Steve, to his credit, never once said ‘I told you so,’ never once brought up how this was exactly why he’d been against the Accords in the first place. He gave the appropriately sympathetic responses in the appropriately sympathetic places, and wholeheartedly agreed with all of Tony’s (frankly very rude) descriptions of Ross.

 _I’m really sorry, Tony_ , he texted when Tony had arrived back at the tower and exhausted his stream of ranting. _I know how frustrating it is for you not to be able to help. Where did you say they were again?_

And Tony, like a chump, told him. And because his mind was going a million different directions at once, he didn’t even think about it twice when Steve’s next text was a slightly typo-ed _Hey_ _Tony, sorry, I’ve gotta run but we’ll talk real soon, I promise._

He didn’t think twice about it, that is, until the next morning, when he was guzzling down coffee before an SI meeting that he, apparently, absolutely, no matter what “I’m not kidding Tony, I will murder you with my shoe if you don’t show up” had to attend. The news was on in the background, and he wasn’t really paying attention until he heard the newscaster mention Symkaria. Tony’s head shot up and he blinked at the news anchor, talking about how overnight the enemy forces holding the country hostage had been removed, and there were speculations as to who was responsible for the upheaval.

Tony’s phone - his real phone - started to ring with Rhodey’s tone, but he ignored it in favour of scrambling for the flip phone.

_Steve. What did you do?_

He had a funny feeling that Steve had been waiting for his text, because his response came almost immediately.

_Officially? Nothing._

Tony almost choked on his coffee, glaring at the phone. _You know this isn’t official, asshole. You set up the secure line. What did you do?_

_You had a problem, your hands were tied. I helped the best way I knew how._

Tony actually groaned out loud into the empty kitchen, slumping against the counter. _Steve. Steve no. Jesus Christ Steve, you can’t just waltz in and do whatever._

 _Why not?_ Steve countered, and before Tony could even begin to formulate a response, another text was firing in. _Tony, this could work. I know you’re still for the Accords and I get that, I do. We all know how I jump into things headfirst and you were maybe right about needing oversight. But you said yourself the people of Symkaria wanted your help. The Accords are a mess right now, and I have no doubt you’ll get them fixed, but that could take years. In the meantime, why not let us pick up where the Accords leave off?_

Tony exhaled heavily, but at the same time part of him couldn’t deny how great it would be working with Steve again, even if it was long distance. _Been thinking about this a lot, have you?_

_I have, actually. I miss you, Tony, miss working as a team. I know this isn’t quite the same, but it’s a step. And we’d be helping people._

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, contemplating. _You know I could be courtmartialed ifanyone found about this?_

_Don’t be ridiculous, Tony. You’re not in the Armed Forces._

He couldn’t help grinning at that. _Maybe not_ , he admitted. _But I could be locked up and nobody would ever see or hear from me again._

 _Come on, Tony. I wouldn’t let that happen to you_.

Tony tried to ignore the way his stomach swooped at that, a pleasant warmth filtering through him. _Steve… This is a terrible idea._

_Or is it the best idea? It’ll be our secret. Tell me where to go and we’ll be there. Nobody else has to know - I won’t even tell the rest of the team. Just you and me._

And Tony was an absolute sucker, because those four words had him agreeing. _Yeah, alright Steve. You and me._

***

The thing was, Steve hadn’t exactly been wrong. Having the ex-Avengers step in when the official Avengers couldn’t actually worked ridiculously well. Nat had apparently been giving Steve and Sam stealth lessons, because there were no more photos on social media of a baseball-capped Captain America and Falcon. And while there were rumours and suspicions that they were involved, there was no actual proof, nothing solid.

The first couple of times that he’d texted Steve for an assist, Tony hadn’t been able to help expecting a SWAT team on his doorstep at any minute. Not that they could hack his phone, obviously, and he’d been fully prepared to bullshit his way through any explanation, but still. He’d been expecting it. It just seemed so painfully obvious to him that of course he was the one passing information on to the Rogue Avengers. But really, he still hadn’t even told Pepper and Rhodey about being back in contact with Steve (and probably wouldn’t, now, even if Rhodey did keep side-eyeing the phone that Tony kept on him at all times, and then giving Tony a _look._ ) As far as anyone knew, the last contact that Tony had had with Steve was a massive blowout that had ended up with half the Avengers becoming fugitives. So really, he was probably the last person that anyone would expect to be passing information to Steve Rogers.

As time went on, they settled into a routine. Tony would text Steve whenever the Accords prevented them from helping out where they were really needed, and Steve would round up the other fugitives, and within 24 hours, the problem would be sorted. But even when there wasn’t an Avengers mission to be handled, Tony found himself texting Steve on a daily - and sometimes even hourly - basis. Bad day? Text Steve. Something funny happen? Text Steve. Overwhelmed by the crippling loneliness of having lost most of the family he’d built for himself in the past few years? Text Steve.

And somehow, every single time, Steve would have exactly the right words, would respond like he genuinely enjoyed the little stories about his day that he shared, and Tony could picture him laughing until it was a physical ache not having Steve actually sitting beside him. And on the bad days, Steve seemed to know just what to say to calm Tony down, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry things alone, that he had people on his side even if they were all split apart right now.

He missed Steve, is what it came down to. He craved talking to him, and more and more wished he was physically there, beside him, that he could see Steve’s face light up with that stupid look he got whenever he really, truly laughed. And if he was honest with himself, like really, truly, bottom of a bottle of scotch honest, this wasn’t a new feeling. He had never admitted it to anyone, not even himself, but even before the Accords, before everything had gone to shit, there’d been something there between them. Eye contact that lingered just a little too long, Steve laughing a little easier around Tony, Tony feeling a little lighter in Steve’s presence. It had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface, and who knew what it might have turned into if Berlin had never happened. Tony was the first to admit that he had a lifetime of regrets, and right now that one was up there at the top of the list. He’d give up a whole hell of a lot to have Steve by his side again.

***

It all came to a head a few months after Tony had sent that first text. Tony was in the middle of a meeting for a potential client, half paying attention and half thinking about an idea of the suit that had just come to him, when his eyes caught on the flat screen on the far wall. The normal news reel of stocks and business and been replaced by a breaking news segment. Reports of fighting and explosions in Belavia - the exact location that Tony had texted Steve not twelve hours earlier. Feeling like his heart was going to stop, Tony tuned out the meeting entirely, eyes focusing on the screen. Nobody seemed to know what was going on, rumours of Hydra or AIM lying in wait, and supposed sightings of Captain America right before a massive explosion had cut off access to the city centre. That had been two hours earlier, and no one had any definitive information since then.

Mumbling excuses, and ignoring the sharp look that Pepper shot him, Tony stumbled out of the board room, fingers already groping for the phone in his pocket. He ducked into an empty office, hand shaking as he opened the phone, ignoring his typos as he fired off the text.

_Steve? Tell me you’re okay._

If something had happened to Steve… If something had happened to Steve, and _Tony_ was the one who sent him there…?

There was no response, and even though Tony knew that there were a billion and one reasons why Steve might not have been answering - not the least of which was that he might have been in the middle of a fight - he couldn’t help firing off another text. And then another, and then another, each more frantic and desperate than the last.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat in there, staring at the phone like he could will a reply to come in from Steve. And when nothing came through, he thumbed through the contacts and, for the first time since this had all started, pressed the button to connect a call.

Steve didn’t pick up.

Somehow, Tony made it home. He wasn’t even aware of leaving the building, couldn’t for the life of him have said how he made it home, too busy texting and calling Steve, over and over, frantic until he was safely ensconced in his lab. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he could feel panic twisting low in his belly, overwhelmed by the need to do something. The second he was able, he had every piece of technology in his arsenal working to try and figure out what was happening, to try and get a read on the situation. He had called in every favour he could thinking of, hoping there would be someone out there with more information, the somebody somewhere would know something. He was itching to suit up and fly out there himself, to shift through the rubble until he could find Steve and shake him senseless for scaring him like that (Tony wouldn’t let himself think of any other alternative). But even in the armour he was hours away, and if he ruined the arrangement they’d come to, if he gave up their secret, Steve would probably be disappointed. That was the only thought that kept him in place. He didn’t even dare reach for the bottle of scotch on his shelf, as much as he desperately wanted to, for fear that Steve would need his help and he’d need every one of his wits about him.

It was hours of waiting. It was fully nighttime, and Tony was elbows deep in trying to decrypt some top level security files, thinking there might be more information there, when his phone chirped. He’d imagined the sound a thousand times over the course of the day, so much that it took a second for the sound to even penetrate his brain. He looked over, blinking at the phone and half wondering if it was still his imagination when the phone chirped again. Breath catching, he snatched it up, taking a minute to open his messages because at some point his hands had started shaking.

_Tony, I’m okay. I promise, we’re okay._

_Tony? Are you there?_

Tony felt relief flow through him, so strong his legs went a little weak, and he had to fall back into his seat. A sound slipped out of his throat, something close to a sob, and he scrubbed his shaking hand over his face. He had no idea what kind of a state Steve was in, but he was alive and at least coherent enough to text, and Tony could work with that.

He stared at the phone, trying to think of where to even begin in responding, when the phone rang in his hand, Steve’s name popping up on the screen. And before he could even stop to think about the fact that they hadn’t actually spoken, that he hadn’t heard Steve’s voice since Siberia, he was accepting the call.

“Tony?” Steve didn’t wait for a greeting. His voice was hoarse, and soft like he was trying to whisper, and it was possibly the greatest sound that Tony had ever heard. “Tony, god, I’m sorry. We were stuck, and I got your texts but I couldn’t answer, especially not with Sam and Nat and Wanda there, but we’re okay. I just have a minute, I have to go before Sam comes looking for me, but I wanted to tell you we were okay. It was touch and go for awhile, and Nat got busted up pretty bad - I mean, she’ll be fine - but we’re okay, we’re out.”

Tony made a choked noise, cutting off Steve’s rambling.

“Tony?”

“What the fuck were you thinking? You can’t… You were supposed to be careful Steve. Not jump into more than you can handle guns blazing and almost get yourself killed.”

“I don’t use guns,” Steve pointed out softly, and Tony wasn’t sure if the sound that came out of him was a laugh or a sob.

“You’re an asshole, Rogers. You’re such an asshole, I’m going to kill you myself. I thought you were dead, Steve. I thought you were dead, and I couldn’t do anything except sit here and be useless and I was scared. I was scared that I’d never get to text you again, or talk to you, or god forbid see your stupid face…”

He’d started crying at some point, and didn’t even care. He’d been under so much stress for so long, and this? This was just too much.

“Shhh,” Steve was humming soothingly, his own voice cracked with emotion. “Tony, it’s okay. It’s okay, I promise, I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere, I’m still here.”

“Fuck,” Tony choked out. “Fuck, you big dumb asshole. Why do you have to do that? You worm your way in, and you make me fall in love with you, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

For a long minute, silence reigned on the phone line. “You’re what?” Steve asked weakly.

Tony sighed, but in for a pound and all that. “I’m in love with you, Steve. I have been for awhile. And I’m sorry, I know that’s not exactly ideal, what with the situation being what it is, and me being, well… Me, but-”

“No!” Steve said quickly, and there was something different in his voice now, something lighter. “No, I don’t. I mean… Me too. I’ve been… Me too, I just… Fuck, Tony, I’ve gotta go, I’m so sorry. Please don’t get all stuck in your head and freak out about this. God, I’m sorry, I’ll talk to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

The line went dead before Tony could say another word, leaving him blinking at the phone and wondering what the fuck had just happened. He felt his lips twitch, fighting back the ridiculous smile that was threatening to take over his face as he replayed their conversation in his head. This wasn’t all him, wasn’t all in his mind. Steve felt the same way, Steve loved him too.

He giggled a little, unable to help himself - and glad he was alone in the shop - as he thought about the fact that Steve fucking Rogers loved him back. He had a thousand and one things to do, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to focus. He couldn’t stop staring at his phone, willing it to ring even though it had only been a minute since Steve had hung up. Tony felt a thousand pounds lighter and, for the first time, it seemed as though everything might be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how the third date is the sex date? This is definitely the third chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this early next week, once I was done with school for the semester. But in light of the Endgame trailer dropping, I thought we could use a happier alternative (I know I sure could!)

Three days. It had been three days since Tony’s painfully awkward love confession, and he hadn’t heard from Steve since. He knew it had been a close call for the rogue avengers, and maybe they had to lay low, but still. Three days without hearing anything from Steve was unheard of by now. He had thought Steve had been saying that he returned his feelings, had replayed the conversation in his head over and over again and couldn’t come up for any other explanation for what Steve had said, but… Three days of radio silence was pretty compelling.

Tony knew, of course, that he was perfectly capable of reaching out to Steve too. But each time he’d picked up the phone, each time he’d checked for a new text, or found himself lingering over Steve’s name in the contact list, he couldn’t quite make the call. Part of him was a little embarrassed about the frantic, desperate, utterly uncool way that he’d confessed his feelings. And part of him figured that if Steve was giving him the brush off (which didn’t _seem_ like Steve, but who knew) he should save them both the awkwardness of trying to push things.

So instead Tony had thrown himself into work, promising Rhodey he was fine when he caught him giving him concerned looks, and focusing on the million and one distractions he had to occupy his time, trying not to think about the phone burning a hole in his pocket, trying to keep himself from checking it a hundred times a day, just in case. He had run himself ragged only partially intentionally (he couldn’t seem to shut his brain down enough to sleep, mind swirling with thoughts of Steve, and so it seemed easier to keep working, catching little catnaps here or there instead), and by midnight of that third day, he was exhausted.

He headed for his bedroom, determined to actually get some sleep tonight, shut the door firmly behind him, and then froze at the half-hunched form standing by the window. He opened his mouth, a split second from having Friday sound the alarm when he realized what - or rather who - he was looking at.

“Wh- _Steve_?”

“Uh. Hey,” Steve said, straightening with a somewhat sheepish look on his face. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back. I just… I wanted to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood you on the phone?”

He sounded just a little out of breath, and Tony blinked at him. “What - did you _run_ here? Steve, you can’t be here, what if someone saw you? You…” He stopped as Steve’s words processed. “What?”

Steve shrugged, his smile a little nervous and a little hopeful. “I just. Miscommunication has kind of been our downfall, and there was a lot of background noise, and I really don’t want to get this wrong. And I wanted to make sure that you really said what I thought you did. Because I thought it might have just been my ears playing tricks on me, because I’ve thought about you saying that before, Tony. Like, a lot. Cause if you did say what I thought you said, well, “me too” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve been in love with you for a really long time, Tony. Probably since you offered me blueberries on the Helicarrier. I don’t know, maybe even before that. It’s hard to tell. It kind of feels like I’ve just always been in love you. Which probably makes everything that happened seem even worse now, but I never said I was good at being in love, I just…”

Steve was starting to look pained, like he couldn’t seem to make himself shut up, and Tony shook his head.

“Oh god, Steve, just stop talking.”

Steve ducked his head, wincing as he looked up at Tony, but there was a hopeful smile on his face too. And Tony knew there were things that he should say, knew there were things that they needed to talk about. But Steve was standing there looking like Tony held his entire fate in his hands, and Tony couldn’t get over the fact that this was Steve standing beside his bed, and was that a beard on his face? Tony shook his head again, could feel the answering grin spreading across his cheeks.

“Come here, asshole.”

Steve didn’t kiss him like Tony had half expected he might. He crossed the room in a few easy strides and then thick arms were wrapping around Tony’s back, holding him tight. It just felt natural for Tony to wrap his arms around Steve in return, hugging him back tightly, savouring the feeling of the muscles beneath his hands. He was the perfect height to bury his face against Steve’s neck, and that’s what he did, breathing in the scent of Steve and home.

“I love you too,” he mumbled against his skin. “You’re a jerk, but you’re my jerk now, and I love you.”

Steve laughed at that, the sound shaky and thick, and Tony hugged him tighter, rubbing a soothing hand over his back. For the first time in a long time, things felt right.

“Fuck,” Tony breathed into Steve’s neck. “Can you just - you’re really here, right? Can you pinch me?” He yelped when Steve did so, right on the ass, and pulled his head back to find Steve grinning at him, a little confused, but happy. Tony gave him a dirty look before grinning back, somewhat ruefully. “Sorry. Just last time this happened it turned out to just be a dream.”

Steve’s grin grew. “You dreamed about me coming here?” he asked, eyes sparkling. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, fighting his own smile as he took a step back, looking Steve over. “What happened to your face?”

Steve arched an eyebrow, scratching an absent thumb over his beard. “I’m undercover, Tony,” he said blandly, grinning when Tony burst out laughing. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh no!” Tony said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t say that. I definitely didn’t say that.” He moved his hand to brush over the thick hair, his thumb sliding across Steve’s chin and catching on his lower lip. Steve’s breath caught, tongue flicking out automatically and catching the tip of Tony’s finger in the process. Tony bit his lip, imagining the scratch of Steve’s beard other places on his body.

“I should…” Steve swallowed hard, eyes fluttering as Tony moved his thumb with intent now. “I mean we’re… I’m…”

“Are you going to kiss me or what, Rogers?”

Steve grinned, his hand moving to cup Tony’s chin and tilt his head back slightly. Tony felt his breath catch, eyes going wide as he stared up at Steve, unblinking. His own tongue flicked out in anticipation, and Steve’s eyes zeroed in at the movement before he was leaning in, closing the distance and placing a soft kiss on his lips. His skin was soft against Tony’s, and despite the chasteness of the kiss, he couldn’t help shivering. His hands shifted to slide over Steve’s shoulders, just this small bit of contact enough to make him moan softly against Steve’s mouth.

Apparently something about that did it for Steve, because he was making a soft noise in return and then his arms were wrapping around Tony, pulling him in tight, his tongue slipping past his lips. Tony groaned as Steve licked inside his mouth, and he wasn’t even sure who was making those desperate, pleased sounds because all he could think about was getting closer to Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, panting hard as he pulled away. “We should really… We need to talk, Tony.”

“Later,” Tony gasped, fumbling for the zipper of Steve’s uniform and pulling it open enough to slide his hand inside and curl his fingers around Steve’s waist, stroking them over the smooth skin of his back. “God Steve, I haven’t seen you in months. We can talk after.” His fingers scratched over a spot near Steve’s spine, and Steve shuddered in response, the groan that slipped out of his mouth sending heat crackling through Tony.

“Okay,” Steve choked out. His hands moved to Tony’s hips, squeezing hard like he couldn’t quite believe he was really there. Tony dragged his nails up and down Steve’s back, delighting in the way Steve’s fingers flexed on his hips, probably leaving bruises behind. The thought made Tony shift, pressing his hips against Steve’s, and he moaned softly when he felt Steve hard against his thigh.

“Jesus, Steve,” he breathed softly. Steve made a desperate sound when Tony shifted his stance, giving him something to grind against. Tony just grinned, curling his other hand around the back of Steve’s neck. “Easy honey, I’ve got you.”

“God, Tony.” Steve’s voice was rough like Tony had never heard before. He pressed his forehead to Tony’s shoulder, his arms shifting to wrap around Tony’s waist again, pulling him in closer. “I don’t… I can’t… Thought about this so much…”

Tony beamed, sliding a hand up to brush through Steve’s hair. “Oh yeah?” he asked, deliberately pitching his voice low when Steve shivered against him. “What have you thought about?” Steve just groaned in response and Tony grinned wider. He slid the hand in Steve’s uniform around to his front, sliding it down his abdomen, teasing at his uniform pants. “Come on, Steve. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck,” Steve moaned, mouthing over Tony’s shoulder. “I want… God, I want everything.”

“Everything, huh?” For all that he was playing it cool, Tony couldn’t resist grinding up against Steve’s hip even as he opened Steve’s pants, working his hand inside. “How about this?” he asked, brushing his fingers over the tip of Steve’s cock, rubbing his index over the precome beading from his slit. “Is this a good start?”

Steve practically melted against him, whining under his breath. “God, Tony…”  
Tony grinned, kissing over Steve’s neck before shifting his hand lower, cupping Steve’s cock and then cursing over how thick he was. “Jesus Christ, Steve. Get on the damn bed.”

Steve laughed at that, bright and happy, and then he was picking Tony up effortlessly, crossing the room in two easy steps to drop the two of them onto the mattress. Tony couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out as they bounced a little on the memory foam, and then he was reaching up to curl his hands around Steve’s shoulders, hauling him down for kisses.

“Okay,” Tony said, pulling away after a minute. “Okay, okay, just let me…” He pushed at Steve, who went easily onto his back, staring up at Tony and looking a little dazed when he moved to straddle Steve’s hips.

“Tony,” he breathed, hands grabbing at his hips to hold him there, grinding up against him and groaning at the friction.

Tony nodded. “I know, I know baby. Just let me…” He trailed off, busying himself with peeling Steve out of his uniform top. Steve helped where he could but mostly got in the way as he leaned up to kiss Tony as much as possible, sliding his hands under Tony’s t-shirt to stroke over his side. “Shit,” Tony muttered when he finally had Steve topless and laid out beneath him. He couldn’t resist sliding his hands up the length of Steve’s skin, teasing him and appreciating all those muscles at the same time. Steve tensed beneath him, hips shifting restlessly, and Tony grinned. “This is entirely unfair, you know that?” he asked. “No one person should be this good looking. Do you have any idea how attractive you are to me?”

Steve was looking a little dazed as Tony kept toying with him, teasing over his chest and abdomen, but he managed a smile at that. “Got some idea, yeah,” he admitted, eyes locked on Tony’s.

Tony stared at him a minute before laughing, low and pleased. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere, Rogers,” he told him, moving his hand to pinch one of Steve’s nipples between his fingers. The reaction was immediate, Steve arching with a gasp that sounded like it had been torn out of him. Tony beamed wider, doing it again just for that response. “Oh, like that, huh?”

“Tony,” Steve gasped, and Tony thought he could listen to him saying his name like that for the rest of his life. “Tony, please don’t tease me.”

And, well… The idea of teasing Steve, of drawing it out and making him beg certainly had its merits. But this had been a long time coming, and Tony wanted it just as bad, so he put a pin in that for another day. Nodding, he shifted forward, flattening himself to Steve’s chest to go back to kissing him properly. Steve sighed against his lips, big hands sliding down Tony’s back - and when they settled on Tony’s ass, he couldn’t help grinning against Steve’s lips, pushing back into the touch.

“Fuck,” Steve muttered against his mouth. “You feel so good, Tony.” He pulled one hand free to shove it up under his shirt, pushing and shoving until Tony shifted enough that he could pull it off, tossing it across the room. He didn’t hesitate in returning both hands to Tony’s ass, this time sliding them beneath the waistband of his pants to get a palmful of bare skin. He wasn’t shy about groping him, using his grip to push Tony down, grinding their cocks together through their pants. “Tony,” he gasped, digging his nails in and making Tony shudder. “Tony, please.”

Tony didn’t answer right away, just went back to kissing Steve, the kisses turning almost frantic as they worked at each other’s pants, fumbling with buttons and zippers and shoving them down until finally they were both naked, groaning as their bare skin slid together.

“Oh shit Steve,” Tony choked out, worrying at the skin of Steve’s shoulder with his teeth and grinning when that got a sharp gasp and a twitch of Steve’s cock. “Gotta... I just... Let me...”

“Yeah,” Steve was gasping, despite Tony not actually saying anything. “Yeah, Tony, please.”

Tony grinned, shifting around until he could finally get a hand between them, curling it around Steve’s cock. He was thick and hard in his grip, the skin hot beneath his fingers, and Tony’s toes curled as Steve whined loudly through his teeth. Tony grinned, sliding his hand up the thick length of him, until he could pull his foreskin back. Steve’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, head tipping back as he gasped, breathing ragged. His fingers dug sharply into the flesh of Tony’s ass, sliding into the cleft, and he couldn’t help pressing his forehead to Steve’s collarbone at the feeling, trying to catch his bearings.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” he mumbled, kissing over his neck because how could he leave all that gorgeous skin alone? “You’re killing me here.”

“Could... could say the same for you,” Steve retorted, sounding more out of breath than Tony had ever heard him. He couldn’t help preening a little that he had been the one to make Steve lose his composure that way, and he squeezed around the head of Steve’s cock, delighting in the desperate, frantic sound that pulled out of Steve’s mouth. “Tony,” Steve breathed. His eyes were still closed, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “God, Tony. This is even better than I imagined.”

“Yeah?” Tony grinned against Steve’s skin, moving his hand over him in slow, steady strokes that were more of a tease than anything. “You think about this a lot, Cap?”

“All the time,” Steve admitted, his faint smile turning into a full on grin as Tony’s rhythm faltered slightly. “I used to have to go back to my room and jerk off after we’d hang out in your lab. Watching you work, your hands? It was the _only_ thing I could think about.”

Tony blinked at him before grinding down against his hips, balls drawing up at the thought. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve. You can’t just say that to me.” He didn’t miss the soft huff of Steve’s laughter, sounding pleased with himself, and he retaliated by twisting his hand on the next upstroke, stroking over the vein at the base of Steve’s cock and making him shout in pleasure.

“Oh god, Tony,” Steve choked out. “I can’t... I need... Oh god, please.”

“Yeah?” Tony hummed, pleased to have control back. ‘What do you need, Steve? You gonna come for me?” He grinned when that got him a faint whimper. “Tell me what you want, Steve. You want to come like this, grinding against each other like we can’t even stop? Want me to...” His mouth went dry a little at the thought. “Want me to suck you off?” he asked, his voice rough and hoarse. “Oh god Steve,” he breathed, feeling his own cock twitch as he imagined it. “Let me suck you off.”

Steve whined at that, the sound hungry and greedy and sending sparks of pleasure up Tony’s spine. But then, to his surprise, Steve shook his head. He opened his eyes, shifting his grip on Tony to tug him a little closer. “I want you to fuck me, Tony. Please.”

Tony stilled at that, blinking up at him even as he felt his heart race at the thought, blood pounding in his ears. His cock jerked in want, precome beading at the tip. “Steve, I... are you sure? I mean, that’s… That’s a step.”

Steve was grinning wide, all confidence as he met Tony’s gaze. “Tony, please,” he said again, breath only catching a little when Tony started stroking again, on instinct more than anything. “I’ve waited so long already. I don’t want hand jobs, or suck jobs. I want everything, I want you; I trust you, Tony.”

Tony could feel the smile on his face, grin wide and ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to tamper it. “I... really?”

Steve beamed back at him, moving his hands up Tony’s back until he could haul him in close. “Really,” he agreed, and then, when Tony’s hand squeezed once more, he groaned. “God Shellhead, please. Stop teasing me!” He was half laughing, voice light and happy, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from beaming back at him if he tried.

Shifting, Tony leaned up to give Steve another kiss, slow and sweet. “You got it, boss,” he promised, before sliding over Steve to reach for the nightstand. “Just let me...” He trailed off as he dug around in the nightstand for the lube, and choked as Steve palmed his ass again, teasing him with long fingers. Getting his bearings, Tony managed to look over his shoulder at Steve again, fluttering his eyelashes and well aware of how the bedroom eyes he was giving him. “Sure you don’t want to do this the other way?”

Steve shook his head quickly, going for wide-eyed innocence and mostly failing considering the smirk on his face. “No, no, I’m good,” he said quickly, giving him another squeeze. “Just can’t resist getting my hands on a work of art.”

Tony gave him an exasperated look, but then his hand was closing around the bottle of lube and he made a triumphant noise before Steve was dragging him back over, kissing him again. Somehow Tony managed to find the coordination to snap the bottle open, dripping lube over his fingers. He reached between them again, giving Steve’s cock a cursory squeeze before sliding lower, circling his finger around the rim of his ass. Still half draped over Steve’s chest, he watched the other man’s mouth go slack, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Good, Cap?” he purred, slipping just the tip of his finger inside before withdrawing it again, making Steve whine in protest. “This what you had in mind?”

“Yes,” Steve gasped. “Yes, Tony. More... please...”

And well, Tony wasn’t going to deny him that. He worked his whole finger in, quirking it until he could just brush against Steve’s prostate. Steve made a punched out noise in response, even as his hips jerked up off the bed. Tony couldn’t help grinning and doing it again, because he wanted to hear Steve making that noise for the rest of his life.

“Tony,” Steve gasped. He combed his fingers through Tony’s hair and then pulled them away, twisting them in the sheets instead like he didn’t trust his own strength. “More, more. Tony, please more.”

Still, Tony took his time, using just the one finger until Steve was loose and panting beneath him, sliding in a second as Steve’s hips rocked down against his hand, a low moan slipping out of his mouth as the stretch increased.

“Tony,” Steve whined, hands moving over the sheets and Tony’s back and his own thighs like he couldn’t keep himself still. “God Tony, why. Please, just... Please.”

Tony just hummed, working his two fingers inside as a third played against the rim of Steve’s ass. He pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his collarbone. “Just want to make sure you’re good and ready,” he purred, only half kidding.

Steve lifted his head off the pillow, giving him an unimpressed stare. “I have done this before, you know.”

Tony’s fingers stilled inside him, mind supplying him with images of Steve on all fours, getting fucked until he was screaming, maybe riding someone, thighs bunching as he rocked himself desperately down for more. Tony didn’t know if he was even more turned on, or incredibly jealous that someone had gotten to do this first. “Have you?” he asked, like his brain hadn’t just exploded a little at the thought.

Steve just blinked back at him, smirking like he knew exactly what this information had done to him. “Come on, Shellhead. Please tell me you didn’t think I was a virgin this whole time.” He gave him a ridiculous wink. “I’m fucking Captain America.”

“No,” Tony shot back, abruptly pressing a third finger inside him and grinding them against Steve’s prostate. He smirked as Steve went boneless beneath him. “ _I’m_ fucking Captain America.” Steve groaned, and Tony legitimately wasn’t sure if it was from the sensation or from the terrible joke.

“You just... wait,” he choked out. “Till it’s my turn. Gonna... gonna ruin you, Stark.”

Tony shivered a little in anticipation. “I can’t wait,” he assured Steve, voice coming out low and rough. Steve met his eyes, something warm and loving in his gaze before he threw his head back and moaned.

“God Tony, I’m ready. I swear I’m ready. Please.”

Tony nodded, pulling his fingers free and huffing out a soft laugh when that just made Steve whine louder. “Okay, okay,” he soothed, stroking a gentle hand up Steve’s chest. “Just let me...” He shifted around. “Condom?”

Steve shook his head quickly. “I’m good,” he promised. “I can’t catch anything anyway, and I want... I want you inside me, Tony, please.”

Tony nodded, moving so he was between Steve’s legs, grinning when they automatically spread wider to accommodate them. “You sure you ready?” he couldn’t help asking, giggling at the mutinous expression that Steve gave him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Tony promised, lining himself up. Steve whined again, hips shifting minutely as he nudged up against him and Tony pressed himself inside. He only managed the head of his cock before he had to stop, panting against Steve’s chest. “Oh god, Steve. You feel so good. I’m gonna last like, ten whole seconds. Fuck.”

Steve just shook his head, blunt nails dragging over Tony’s back. “Don’t care,” he promised. “I don’t care. We’ll have a million more times to make it last. Just wanna feel you Tony, please.”

The fact that Steve was already planning to do this again - and not just once, but over and over - was nearly enough to make Tony come then and there. He managed to hold off, resuming his slow press inside until he was buried in Steve, balls pressed up against his ass. Steve keened, tiny little shivers running through his entire body.

“You feel so good,” he moaned, sounding like he’d never felt something so amazing. “God, Tony. Fuck me please.”

Tony nodded, shifting up to kiss Steve again although it was really little more than mashing their mouths together. He pulled out as slowly as he could stand before pressing back in again and oh god, he really wasn’t going to last.

“Shit, Steve,” he choked out, biting at his lower lip and gasping when he felt Steve clench around him at the sensation. He slid a hand down his body, gripping his thick thigh and shoving his leg until it was braced against his shoulder. Steve shouted at the new angle, hips rocking up against Tony as they fell into a desperate, unsteady rhythm. “I’m really not... I’m gonna...”

Steve wasn’t any better off, moaning almost constantly as Tony fucked into him harder. In all his fantasies, Tony had never expected Steve to be so vocal, and it was doing absolutely everything for him. He couldn’t help fucking into him faster and faster, biting into his lip until it was bleeding as he fought to hold on just a little longer.

“Jesus, Tony,” Steve slurred, his hand sliding awkwardly down over Tony’s chest. ‘s so good.”

It took Tony a second to realize what Steve was aiming for, and then he was swatting Steve’s hand out of the way to replace it with his own, curling his fingers around Steve’s cock to jerk him off with the best approximation of a rhythm that he could manage. Steve made a sobbing sound, arching up into it.

“Shh, shhh,” Tony soothed, nipping and sucking at his throat. “I’ve got you. I’m here, I’ve got you, baby.”

He couldn’t say for sure that it was the nickname that did, but a second later Steve’s back was arching as he came all over his chest and Tony’s hand, cock pulsing endlessly beneath his fingers. Tony groaned as Steve clenched around him, managed two, three more thrusts before he was burying himself in deep, biting down on Steve’s shoulder as he came. Steve whimpered at the feeling, and Tony didn’t miss the way his cock twitched against his hip.

Tony slumped forward as he finished, not especially caring about the sticky mess between them. He panted into Steve’s chest, trying to catch his breath and letting Steve take his weight. It was a minute before he felt Steve’s arms come around his back, stroking gently down his spine. He shivered at the feeling before snuggling more firmly into Steve’s chest.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he mumbled, feeling Steve’s chest vibrate as he laughed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, it was.” He sounded slightly dazed, but in a good way, like all his dreams had come true and he couldn’t quite believe it. Tony hid his smile against Steve’s chest, but he was pretty sure Steve felt it because a minute later Steve was shifting beneath him. “God, you weigh a lot, Shellhead.”

“Shut up, Winghead,” Tony retorted. “You’re Captain America. You can take it.” Still, he shifted to pull out, Steve’s arms tightening around him a minute before letting him go. Tony propped himself up on his elbows, beaming down at Steve before giving him a quick kiss. “You wait right here,” he said. “Be right back.” He hopped off the bed, padding naked into the bathroom to get a cloth. They were both in need of an actual shower, but he figured that could wait.

When he came back into the bedroom, Steve was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, watching for him with lazy, content eyes. He looked absolutely debauched, arms folded behind his head, and Tony grinned at him. They did a quick, haphazard clean up before Tony collapsed back on the bed, beside Steve this time. It was only a second before Steve’s arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulder, pulling him in close against his side. Tony grinned up at the ceiling as the silence between them grew, comfortable, not awkward.

“I think,” he said, after a long few moments. “I think I might have always felt this way too.” He felt Steve shift beside him, and rolled onto his side to meet his eyes. “Been in love with you, I mean. I just... Didn’t realize that’s what it was.”

Steve blinked at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?” he asked softly, and at Tony’s nod, leaned in to kiss him again. “Does this mean you wanna go out with me?” He grinned, and Tony giggled against his lips.

“You asking me to go steady, Cap?”

“Yup.” Steve popped the p, letting himself slip into a drawl. “Wantcha to be my fella.”

Even knowing he was teasing, Tony couldn’t help shivering a little at his voice. “I love it when you get all Brooklyn,” he said. “Makes me feel like you should be down in a Warehouse, drinking beer and tossing around machinery while I sit at home baking pies for you, wearing only an apron.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t stereotype, Tony,” he said primly, the smile sneaking over his lips betraying the false irritation in his voice. “Also, what the fuck are you implying?

Why am I the one in the warehouse? I’m classy as hell.”

“That right?”

“Sure. I even know poetry.” Steve sat up against the pillows, making a show of clearing his throat. “There once was a man from Nantucket...”

Tony had to tackle him after that, and Steve caught him easily. The rolled around on the bed, half-hearted wrestling moves interspersed with kisses and laughter. Tony still had a million and one things to deal with, but none of them seemed to matter here with Steve.

They ended up sprawled perpendicular to each other, Tony’s head on Steve’s chest. Steve had one hand playing over the skin where the arc reactor used to be, the other tangled with one of Tony’s.

“You know this is still a hot mess,” Tony pointed out. “I mean, it’s not exactly going to be movie premieres and museum openings. Not yet, anyway. You’re still a fugitive, and there’s still avenging, and I’m working on it, I am, but...”

“It’s okay,” Steve told him, sounding absolutely confident. “We’ll figure it out together. If anyone can get us pardoned I know it’s you, and in the meantime...” He shifted them around so that he could see Tony’s face again, giving him another kiss, hot and dirty. “I can come by, maybe, more often. Or you know... Regularly. I’ve gotten pretty good at the undercover thing.” He preened. “Nat’s been giving me lessons. Could hideaway here, spend the whole weekend holed up, just you and me, every few months or so.”

Tony couldn’t fight his grin, even though that was a terrible idea. “Steve, if you got caught...”

Steve shrugged. “So I won’t get caught. It’s worth it. Besides, this isn’t exactly altruistic here. I’ve kinda got a vested interest. I _really_ like sex, Tony, and I don’t think having it with anyone else is ever going to cut it again.”

Tony couldn’t help his delighted laugh at that, burying his face against the pillow before looking back up at Steve. “Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“It wasn’t Barnes, was it?”

Steve frowned a little. “What wasn’t - you mean who I slept with before?? Don’t be gross, Tony! Bucky’s like my brother. Ew!” He looked so unsettled that Tony couldn’t help laughing at him, sprawling over him and kissing him until he relaxed again.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hummed against Steve’s lips. “Just had to make sure what kind of competition I was dealing with here.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “There’s never been any competition for you, Shellhead.”

Tony beamed. “I love you, Steve.”

Steve grinned, pulling him in for another kiss. “Love you too, Tony.”

 

EPILOGUE - SOMETIME LATER

 

Tony’s mind whirled as he stood in the middle of Strange’s sanitarium, listening to Bruce tell him that his worst nightmares were coming true. This was it, the big bad, everything he’d known was coming. He was only half aware of the conversation happening around him, too busy fighting back the panic that threatened to consume him as they talked about time stones, and mind stones, and where the fuck was Vision.

“Who could find Vision then?” Strange asked, and Tony’s answer was more autopilot than anything.

“Steve Rogers. Maybe,” he added, because as a general rule he and Steve didn’t share specifics about the other avengers, especially the ones that were still fugitives, and who Tony could potentially be subpoenaed about, but he was pretty sure Steve knew how to track him down.

And then he stilled, the panic slowly settling into something more reasonable because _Steve_. He wasn’t alone in this, not anymore. He had Steve by his side, Steve who understood now, and they could figure this out. They could handle this.

It was a second later that he registered Strange’s mumbled “oh great” and remembered that right. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he and Steve hadn’t even spoken in two years, and were persona non grata in each other’s lives.

Bruce was staring at them like they’d lost their minds. “Call him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Tony replied automatically, hand already reaching for his phone. Except it really was that easy. Steve was just uptown, presumably still sleeping warm and fucked out and fully satisfied in Tony’s bed, where he’d left him not a few hours before. Just a text away.

Tony pulled out the phone. _Time to suit up, Avenger._

It was only a minute before his phone dinged in response. _What’s the play, Shellhead?_

And despite everything, Tony felt something in his heart ease. Because this may have been the end game, this may have been everything Tony had feared since New York, but he had Steve by his side, and they’d face it together.

The end.

 

(And they all lived happily ever after, Maw never got the Time stone, Thanos was defeated before he got any real traction, and nobody turned to dust.)

**Author's Note:**

> Tune in next week for the continuing adventures of Steve and Tony Texing Each Other!
> 
> And, as always, you can find me on tumblr. [Ceealaina](http://ceealaina.tumblr.com) \- come talk to me!


End file.
